The Stone Remains Silent Even When Disturbed

Posted on by

image

The Stone Remains Silent Even When Disturbed

In whose tongue
do you dream?
I fall closer to death

than birth, yet
the moon’s sliver
still parts the bare

branches and an unfilled
trench divides the
ground. Bit by bit,

we separate – you
remain in the earth,
recumbent, as I gather

years in stride.
Even the rain
leaves us alone.

image

75 thoughts on “The Stone Remains Silent Even When Disturbed”

  4. This reminds me tangentially of a poem my daughter wrote in a fit of angst many years ago, in middle school, I believe. Essentially, she stated that she wished she was a pebble so that being kicked around wouldn’t hurt. It made me sad inside, of course, but it was an excellent poem, and I was at least happy that like me, she had this means of channeling her feelings.

    Liked by 2 people

    Reply ↓

  14. Reblogged this on Life is But This and commented:
    This is my translation of Robert’s poem

    石亂也無言

    您用那個語言作夢？
    我已遠離出生之日
    月亮的銀光仍透露
    禿樹下的一個空壕。

    我們逐漸拉遠
    您安躺於泉下
    我已步向高齡
    雨也不再打擾

    （c） Mary Tang 2015

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply ↓

  27. Phew, I finally made it to the end of your adoring fans’ comments so that I could join their ranks! 🙂 I have always believed that poetry as an art-form ought to inspire communion/mutual recognition (as opposed to being enigmatic and inscrutable), and it is heartening for me to see that your work, in general, aims to do just that. This poem, in particular, reaches out with its “bare branches,” wholly unencumbered, to invite a new language of resonance to fill the trenches between us — a “tongue” that can be at once austere and beautiful, melancholic and triumphant. Bravo!

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply ↓

    • I stand firmly in the “resonate” vs. “elucidate” camp, meaning I seldom start a poem with a purpose in mind, but instead allow the subconscious to guide me. Often, even when the poem is nearly done, sometimes after many drafts, I still don’t know what my “point” is, what I’m attempting to gently push the reader towards. In these cases, I set the poem aside for a while – sometimes just a few weeks, sometimes a year or even a decade. When it finally speaks to me, I then quickly complete it. This one was begun 19 months ago, but never felt right until just a few days ago, at which time I read it and immediately saw what I’d been aiming for, and made a few minor technical adjustments towards that goal. It will likely undergo another adjustment before I’m completely satisfied, but it’s close. Such is process.

      Liked by 1 person

      Reply ↓

Leave a comment

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.